The Pike
by Highwing
Summary: Could "Jaws" happen at Redwall?
1. Chapter 1

_Here's a fic that uses many of the same characters from my Urthblood stories, but takes place along a slightly different timeline. I wrote it after_ The Crimson Badger_ and_ Highwing: A Sparra's Tale,_ but before_ The Shrew War. _ Astute readers may note subtle differences, such as the absence of Arlyn, or the fact that Vanessa seems a little older and more mature here than in_ TCB_, and yet there are no hares living at Redwall, or any mention of Urthblood at all. Simply put, this is a story that could have happened had Urthblood never visited the Abbey at all and things had kept ticking along there without any Badger War turning the lands on their head. So, think of this as non-canon to the rest of my fics featuring this cast, and read it as a stand-alone tale. Hope you like it!_

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The great fish was not pleased.

It considered itself the absolute lord and master of its watery domain, and any intrusion into that realm by the creatures of the dry places above was a challenge to its authority. For the lesser aquatic life the great fish spared not a thought, since there was none that could match it in size or strength. The slower, smaller fish were its food, nothing more, as were the shrimp that infested the reed-choked shallows, and even the big creeping snails whose thick shells provided no protection against the powerful crushing jaws of the water king. But when outsiders came to steal its food, the great fish was provoked to unreasoning rage and instinctively moved to defend its territory.

It lay half-buried in the silt and mud, its cold dead eyes fixed upon the trespassers. It knew little about the land creatures since they rarely ventured deep into these waters; never had it tasted their flesh. Perhaps they were not even aware of its presence ... not that the great fish was capable of such complex thoughts. It knew only that a theft was taking place, by creatures who did not belong here, and that must be made to stop.

The interlopers used a large flexible skin to harvest quantities of the shrimp. Twice before the fish had attacked the nonliving skin, ripping and tearing its mesh strands until it was rendered useless. This time, two of the sleek-furred thieves swam below the surface with their fake skin stretched out between them. The great fish observed them for a short time, their dark shapes silhouetted against the sun overhead. Then it launched itself at them with three powerful strokes of its muscular tail that drove it up off the bottom and toward its quarry like a flash, its heavily-toothed maw agape for an attack.

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"How in the name of Martin did a pike get into our Abbey pond?"

Montybank, Redwall's burly Skipper of otters, gave a shrug. "Dunno, Nessa. If I hadta guess, I'd wager he was a stowaway."

Abbess Vanessa, a comely mouse of middle seasons, arched an eyebrow. "A stowaway?"

"Why, shore," the otter said. "As yore aware, we hafta restock the pond from time t' time with shrimp an' fish from the River Moss. Yon pike was prob'ly just a small fry when we scooped it up with th' rest, and we brought it back to the Abbey an' released it without even realizin' it. Somehow it managed to avoid gettin' eaten by th' bigger fish ... an' now it's king o' the pond."

"Yes ... and now it's also attacking Redwallers," said Vanessa. "Poor Stroker was lucky not to lose a leg. And he'll have some nasty scars on his tail until his dying day."

"That devil fish caught us by surprise, true 'nuff. Won't happen a second time, now we know it's down there." Monty hefted the shredded net. "At least this clears up a couple o' mysteries. This is the third shrimp net we've lost this season. We all assumed they was gettin' snagged on rocks or some ol' barrel or somesuch. Also explains why our shrimp harvests 'ave been so poor of late, even when the nets didn't tear. That nastygills must've been down there a long time, keepin' himself hid from sight."

"Well, he's not hiding anymore. Monty, I want you to post a guard of your otters around the banks of the pond to keep the young ones away from there. If that monster can maim a full-grown otter, a mousebabe or molebabe wouldn't stand a chance against it. I know it will be difficult keeping everybeast away from the pond in the midst of all this fine summer weather we're having - I was quite fond of paddling my paws in the shallows myself. I won't be doing that anymore, and I don't want anybeast else taking unnecessary risks. Not until we figure out what to do about that pike."

"Y'got anything in mind, Nessa?"

"You're the otter. I'll leave that to you."

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The fish could remember, if only vaguely, a time when it had not been master of its universe. Indeed, its early life here had been fraught with danger at every turn. Once it had been tiny, its entire length scarcely more than one of the diminutive shrimp that it now consumed by the mouthful. But the savage will to live that was a hallmark of its species served it well, as did its innate ability to know when to fight and when to flee. It may have been small, but in its brain and muscles it possessed an aggressive cunning unmatched by any fish in its new home.

And so, as the seasons passed, it bided its time ... and grew. Always it was wary to avoid confrontation with any fish bigger and stronger than it was. Over time, the number of those serious competitors grew fewer and fewer. It went from subsisting on the scraps left by others to catching and killing its own shrimp ... and before long it was filling its belly with its fellow fish, those who were now smaller that it was. Still it steered clear of the true monarchs of this limited watery world, content to let them reign until the time was right. As for the others who were suddenly its juniors, they came to live in terror of this new and growing menace among them. It was almost as if they recognized that it did not belong here, but were helpless to do anything about it.

Two winters had passed since the last fish bigger than it was had been taken away by the land creatures above, and that was a lesson the great fish was not to forget. Clearly, those who dwelt in the suffocating dryness above the water could catch and kill even the largest of fish. Falling back on its natural cunning, the great fish took to hiding in the shadowy depths or partially burrowing into the muddy bottom or concealing itself within reeds or other growths whenever the land beasts made their presence known. In this way, it was able to keep its existence a secret from those who could still do it harm.

And still it grew, larger and larger with each passing season, until the very demands of its continued existence forced a change in tactics. Although it lost nothing of its hunter's swiftness and agility, its increasing size made concealment more and more difficult. Moreover, it required greater and greater quantities of food to satisfy its hunger. No longer could it just lie by and allow its resources to be plundered by those who did not even dwell within its realm.

It would fight to protect what belonged to it. And if that meant war with the land creatures, so be it. The great fish was crafty enough to avoid the traps which had snared the other, lesser fish; it would not fall prey to those simple devices.

Its seasons of hiding were over.

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"Well - " Montybank thoughtfully stroked his heavy whiskers as he stood with Abbess Vanessa gazing down into the pond, " - I reckon we could always just starve it. Ought not to take too long, goin' by how fast its goin' through alla our shrimp. We barely got two pawfuls from our last sweep with the nets."

Vanessa furrowed her brow. "Won't it turn on the other fish after the shrimp run out? We depend on this pond too much for it to be left completely lifeless."

"Oh, I doubt it'll come to that," said the otter. "There's always gonna be some shrimp an' small fry hidin' in nooks 'n' crannies where that brute can't get to 'em. All I do know fer shore is that it'd be no use tryin' to restock our pond while that monster's lurkin' down there. All our work'd just go back into its greedy belly."

"True. Hmmm ... I suppose we've nothing to lose by trying it your way. It's not as if the Abbey larders are low; we're well stocked with this summer's early harvests. But I know how you otterfolk like your shrimp and hotroot soup. Think you can go without it for awhile?"

Monty's face grew mournful. "S'pose we'll just hafta, I reckon."

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Plonk! Plonk-plonk-plonk! Plonk-plonk!

Brother Geoff, Redwall's Recorder mouse and Abbey historian, watched from the ramparts of the outer wall as the fusillade of arrows hit the surface of the pond. Shaking his head, he turned to the squirrels lined up on the walltop beside him. "You don't really expect this to work, do you?"

Alexander, the chief of Redwall's squirrels, nocked another arrow to his bowstring. "Well, it's worth a try, Geoffrey ol' chum. Nobeast else's doing anything about that fish, aside from keeping all of us away from the pond. I'm no otter, but I like an occasional swim when summer's at its height. It's been ten days since the attack, Stroker's still hobbling around on crutches with a bandaged-up leg, and we're no closer to reclaiming our pond from that menace. I says let's give this a shot."

"Several dozen shots is more like it," Geoff smirked, referring to the number of arrows Alexander and his companions had already unleashed. "Your chances of hitting it randomly from up here are just about nil. But even if you could get a clear shot at it, I wouldn't be surprised if your arrows just bounce off it, or stick in its side without doing any real damage. Pike are notoriously tough creatures."

Alexander traced the sightline of his drawn arrow across the expanse of pond below. "We squirrels have keener vision than most creatures. No offense, Geoff, but you spend so much time with your spectacled snout buried in your books, you can't appreciate the sharpness of our sight compared to yours. A couple of times now I'm sure I've seen that pike sauntering just below the surface ... "

"I am fairly certain that fish do not saunter," Geoff corrected.

"Yah, well, whatever you want to call it - hey! There it is again, near the south shore!"

He needed to say no more; instantly another volley of arrows hissed through the air and rained down onto the pond. All the squirrels lowered their bows, intently scanning the waters to see if their work bore any fruit. Even Geoff, curious in spite of himself, scrutinized the scene to see if the impossible may have happened.

A fish broke the surface, floating belly-up, transfixed by at least two arrows. But there were no cheers from the squirrels.

"Congratulations. You've just killed a half-grown grayling," Geoff remarked snidely. "And thus is the superior vision of squirrels proven."

"Oh, put a pawsock in it, Pin - "

A pair of massive, ugly toothed jaws rose up around the slain grayling, clamping onto it and pulling it under. By the time any of the squirrels could react, the pike and its prize had vanished into the depths, leaving them with their arrows set uselessly to their bowstrings.

"And I'm sure," Geoff added, "that our friend the pike would like to thank you all for the meal you've just provided it. You saved it the trouble of having to kill that grayling itself."

Alexander gnashed his teeth. "I hope it chokes on those arrows ... or gets indigestion at the very least!"

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Later that same day, after the rain of arrows over the pond had safely ceased, Montybank strode back from the water's edge to where Abbess Vanessa awaited the results of the latest shrimping excursion. The downcast otter extended one flipper toward the mouse; in his palm lay exactly two of the feebly-wriggling crustaceans.

"Guess this makes it official," he announced dejectedly. "This lonely twosome's all we got from an entire sweep of th' south shallows with th' net. Our pond's clean out of shrimp."

"I thought you said that wouldn't happen," Vanessa inquired. "That there would always be a few of them remaining."

"Well, shore," Monty responded, "scattered 'mongst the reeds an' such. Nothin' we'd be able to harvest. Shrimp ain't like fish, that you c'n hook one atta time. If there's not enuff of 'em to gather in th' nets, there might's well not be any t'all, far as we're concerned." He tossed the two shrimp over his brawny shoulder, where they plopped back into their watery home. "Took less time t' come to this pass than I'd reckoned. Looks like that big brute's won this battle."

"But not the war," Vanessa declared. "At least not yet. If it's going to eat itself out of house and home, it will defeat itself on its own. All we'll have to do is wait. We'll stick with your suggestion for now, Monty. If it's thinned out the shrimp so drastically in such a short time, this might end sooner than we imagined."

"Hope so, 'cos it still ain't goin' fer any of the baited lines we put out. Tho' I don't know what we'd do with th' thing even if we could hook it in. Pike ain't even good eatin'."

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Night lay over Redwall Abbey, and the murky depths of the pond were cast into a deeper, almost impenetrable gloom. While nearly all the woodlanders slumbered peacefully in their beds, there was no such contented bliss for the great fish.

It lay in the bottom mud, its ever-wakeful senses keenly attuned to every nuance of its environment. In its simple brutish mind it cycled its immediate problem over and over, dwelling dullishly on the dilemma without reaching any solution. Its thought processes were of the most basic kind, practically devoid of any rationality or reason. But even its primitive brain could grasp the problem facing it now.

The shrimp were gone. There were a few straggling survivors, to be sure, the paltry leftovers that the fish might be able to chase down or weed out from the reeds with a little extra effort. Not for a moment did it expend the energy to ponder how much of this shortage had been caused by the land creatures and how much was due to its own voracious appetite. It ruminations were done on an almost instinctive level: the shrimp were gone, therefore there would be no more shrimp, therefore it could eat no more shrimp. It knew enough of the ways of the pond to understand that the scant few shrimp remaining could never rebound in numbers ... not in time to do the great fish any good, no matter how fast they bred.

It would need to find a new food source to replace what had been lost. So, in the lightless depths of the night pond, the great fish turned its primitive thoughts to what that source might be.

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"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Brother Geoff asked with undisguised concern.

"Shore, why not?" Montybank said nonchalantly. "We're th' real shipmasters of this pond, an' we're not gonna let that fish ferget it."

The Recorder mouse and otter skipper stood on the north banks, looking on as other otters splashed and swam and gamboled and played in the pond. Nearly all the Abbey's children were lined along the shore, watching in delight as the aquatic mammals brazenly braved the dangers of the pike in a blatant display of reclaiming the pond for their own. Maura, the hulking badger mother of Redwall's youngsters, presided over her charges with an unblinking vigilance, warning them away from the waterline when any ventured too close for her comfort. A few of the children cast wads of bread upon the surface; they'd all heard that the big fish in their pond was hungry, and they wanted to lure it so they could catch a glimpse of this now-legendary monster for themselves.

"Vanessa wanted you to keep everybeast away from the pond," Geoff reminded his otter friend. "She'd hardly approve of so many of you actually going into the water."

"What Nessa don't know won't hurt her. An' we got safety in numbers, Geoff matey. Us otters ain't just anybeast. We know 'ow to handle ourselves under wave 'n' wake. If that nastyjaws fancies 'imself a match fer an entire otter troop, he's more'n welcome t'try his luck!"

"And if he pokes his ugly head up to come after any of my young ones," put in Maura from Geoff's other side, "I'll give him a pound on his skull that'll send him into next autumn!"

Geoff didn't doubt that. Maura was the biggest and strongest creature at Redwall, and if anybeast could stand up to the pike, she could.

"Such a glorious summer day as this!" Montybank spread his paws wide as if to soak up more of the sunshine. "Be a cryin' shame if'n we couldn't enjoy a swim fer ourselves on such a morn!"

"I just hope you know what you're doing," Geoff muttered dubiously.

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Two carp and another grayling had disappeared into the gullet of the great fish since the shrimp had run out. But it was not satisfied.

The smaller fish with which it shared the pond were more difficult to hunt than the shrimp had been. More important, the taste of their flesh was bland and unfulfilling, and the energy provided by their meat was inadequate fuel for the great fish's needs. Chasing down this more challenging prey was a drain on its reserves that was barely replenished by ingesting this quarry. Clearly this could not go on.

The land creatures persisted in venturing into its territory. The more skilled among them could swim almost as well as the great fish itself. Even though there were no more shrimp to catch and the land dwellers made no effort to snare any of the other fish, still they intruded into its realm. It did not occur to the fish that they might be naturally and instinctively drawn to the water themselves; they were creatures of the dry places and had no business in this domain. And the concept of swimming and playing for pleasure was utterly beyond its simple powers of reason. The fish was a merciless and unforgiving engine of survival. That was the only thing it understood.

And now it needed a new kind of food to survive.

The land swimmers stayed together in a school of sorts, their numbers nearly as great as some of the lesser fish that schooled throughout the pond. At first their ranks intimidated the great fish, as did their disregard for it presence, and the fish did not pursue them, except feebly when one or two would dive deeper toward it as if taunting their nemesis. At last, however, it could no longer ignore their direct challenges, and kicked up its internal mechanisms into hunt mode.

Waiting for one of the smaller landbeasts to approach it in the deeper layers, the fish lashed its tail, darting forward in a driving attack unlike anything it had shown its tormentors thus far that morning.

At such close quarters, the land creature's attempts to elude those relentless, questing jaws were futile, as were its efforts to bring to bear its double-pointed stick. The weapon was knocked from its grasp by the impact and thrashing struggle, as the fish locked onto flesh and bone and refused to yield.

The landbeast grappled and punched, clawed and bit to free itself as its blood clouded the waters. And then there were two, three, four of its companions descending to aid it. The fish tried to retreat to the bottom with its captive, but the beast in its jaws was too big, still too strong in spite of the damage inflicted upon it, and the fish could not overcome such resistance in the face of these overwhelming odds.

Releasing its warm-blooded prey, the fish shot away with a speed none of its pursuers could match, leaving them to bear their injured comrade back up to the dry places.

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"Can I impress upon you enough how incredibly stupid this was?" Abbess Vanessa said through clenched teeth as she and Sister Aurelia stitched up Turoh's various gashes and lacerations.

The wounded otter lay in an Infirmary bed, wincing and groaning with each necessary indignity from his caregivers. A large crowd of otters and other Redwallers stood around, waiting breathlessly to see whether their fellow Abbeydweller would survive his horrible injuries.

"This is even worse than what that fish did to Stroker," Aurelia commented as she traded a blood-soaked dressing for a clean one. "Legs, tail, side ... "

"At least none of the vital organs seems to have been damaged," Vanessa assessed. "Looks like this was your lucky day, my foolish young Turoh."

The otter gave a pained grunt. "If this's my lucky day, I'd shore as shivers hate t' see my unlucky one."

Vanessa glared up at Montybank. "What in the fur were you thinking, Monty? Sending your otters into the pond knowing full well what that pike could do?"

"We all thought ... uh, we was all armed, Nessa ... and there was so many of us. We wanted to show that fish we wasn't afraid of it ... we just ... " The otter Skipper's lame explanations trailed off and he hung his head in shame. He was his otters' leader, and what had happened rested fully on his shoulders. "'m sorry, Nessa ... "

"As well you should be. And with all the Abbey children looking on, too. The sight of Turoh being pulled half dead from the water sent them into hysterics. Maura's down in Cavern Hole trying to calm them. They'll be having nightmares for seasons after what they saw today."

"Not Droge," Aurelia said out of the corner of her mouth. "That impudent little 'hog wanted to wade right into the water and give that fish a piece of his mind!"

"Listen to me," Vanessa said sternly, snipping the thread of her third stitch job on Turoh's legs. "I do not want anybeast going near the pond while that pike is in there ... and that means otters, too. Do I make myself clear?"

"Clear as a midwinter's morn, ma'am," Montybank nodded.

"Yeah," Turoh seconded. "I won't be lookin' fer another go at that monster anytime soon ... "

Vanessa shook her head. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered to herself.

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That night, the great fish lay in a grotto in the very deepest part of the pond, an inadvertent cave formed by discarded stone blocks more ancient than Redwall itself. In its primordial mind it replayed the attack over and over - the satisfying crunch of its teeth into the land creature's meat and bone, the scintillating flavor of that hot blood washing over its tongue, the delectable sensation of some of that tattered furred flesh sliding down its throat and into its ever-demanding stomach. Although it had experienced only the barest taste of this strange new warm flesh, the merest of samples, that was enough to fire its appetite in a new direction. Never again would the great fish settle for feeding upon its fellow fish unless it absolutely had to, unless it faced certain starvation. It had found something much better. The energy-rich blood and meat of the land dwellers was the substitute for the depleted shrimp that it had been searching for, a food source befitting its exalted status as the lord of these waters.

And so it bent its mind to the problem of how it might secure more such prey ... and how, next time, it might be able to feast on more than just a few drops of blood and scraps of flesh.

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The robin circled high over Redwall Abbey, his red breast a splash of vibrant color against the gray of the overcast afternoon sky. The visiting bird chirped his hellos to some of the friendly sparrows, or Sparra, who dwelt in the attic spaces of the Abbey, then swooped gracefully down toward the lawns, gardens and pond below.

It landed in the orchard and hopped around under the trees, looking for old dropped fruit that might contain a succulent worm or two. His search was in vain; the Redwallers took too much pride in their grounds to allow rotten apples and plums to lie about for very long. But the robin knew of another place in the Abbey where delicacies were to be found, and flapped his way aloft between branches heavy with pears and damsons.

An otter named Pronk and a squirrel named Flashtail were standing sentry on the outer wall and saw the robin appear from the treetops and glide over the grounds to alight adroitly on one muddy bank of the pond.

"Hey, look at that!" Flashtail pointed.

"S'pose he's come fer a gander at our fine fish?" Pronk jokingly speculated.

"I wouldn't be surprised if news of our pike problem has spread throughout most of Mossflower Woods by now," Flashtail said. "D'you think we ought to warn it away?"

"Naw." Pronk waved a paw. "Birdfolk're quicker'n any land or water creature. Naught t'worry 'bout, I'm shore."

The robin, in truth, was completely unaware of the danger lurking beneath the water's surface, and was concerned only with finding morsels to put in his red belly. He knew from his previous visits to the Abbey that tasty shrimp could often be plucked from these shallows. Oddly, though, there were none to be seen today. Perhaps the lack of sun was keeping them in the deeper waters. No matter. These perpetually damp banks could always be counted on to yield the fattest and juiciest worms anybird could ever want.

The robin had his head down, bill probing into the soft earth, when the waters in front of him erupted. He just had time to lift his head and spread his wings in surprise when a nightmare maw of sharp curved teeth closed over the top half of his body.

Pronk and Flashtail stared in unblinking, slack-jawed shock as they watched the unfortunate robin dragged down into the dark depths. "Did ... didja see that?" the squirrel asked.

"I saw it, awright," mumbled Pronk. "But I don't berlieve it."

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When Vanessa heard their report, she asked Pronk and Flashtail to bring her out and show her exactly where the tragedy had occurred. Geoff, Monty, Alexander and Maura tagged along; none of them could credit that any fish, not even their fearsome pike, would be able to catch a bird.

Careful to survey the scene from safely back on the landward side of the bank, Vanessa could clearly see the splay-footed talon tracks in the moist earth. And there like an ugly wound among them was the trough the pike had made with its heavy body when it had flung itself halfway out of the water to go after the unlucky bird. How the fish had managed to drag itself back into the pond at all was anybeast's guess.

"It just came up, grabbed that bird an' pulled it under, easy as y'please," Pronk explained. "Damnedest thing I e'er saw ... er, s'cuse th' language, Abbess."

"No, it's all right. I might've said the same thing myself had I been here to see it." Vanessa gazed gravely at the depressions in the mud. "What really bothers me is that this could just as easily have been one of our sparrow friends who met this fate. I don't suppose it's occurred to anybeast to alert our Sparra to this danger?"

When nobeast spoke for several moments, she held up her paws. "No, forget I said that. I'm Abbess; that's my responsibility ... and I should have thought of it long before now. Maura, would you be so kind as to go up and ring the Matthias and Methuselah bells to summon the Sparra? We must tell them about this at once."

"Of course, Abbess." The badger lumbered off to do Vanessa's bidding.

The Abbess regarded the murderous scene and shook her head. Just one more thing to worry about.

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Vanessa'a fork stopped halfway to her mouth, her stewed rhubarb dangling limply beneath her whiskers as she gaped at Brother Geoff. An awkward silence had settled over the head of their table in Great Hall as everybeast within earshot stopped eating to stare at the Recorder mouse.

"Poison, Geoff?" she said in disbelief. "I'm shocked to hear you even suggest such a thing!"

Geoff, chagrined, seemed to shrink down into his habit. "Well, do we want to be rid of that fish or don't we?"

"Not like that," the Abbess scowled. "Wherever did you get such an idea?"

"Well, I was perusing some of the old records, and I came across several references to poisoner foxes and the mischief they caused, and I figured, why don't we use those methods for good for a change?"

"Because," Vanessa said pointedly, "we are not foxes, and poisoning is not Redwall's way." She rescued the stalk of rhubarb that had slithered back into her bowl and slurped it between her lips like a wet noodle. "We'll find some way to deal with that pike, a solution that won't stain our conscience."

"I dunno, Nessa," Montybank put in from two seat away. "That devil's already chomped otters an' done in a poor li'l birdy. It's a right hazard, shore 'nuff."

Balla, the stout hedgehog cellarkeeper who happened to be passing by with a large flask to refill empty cups and goblets with mild ale, said jokingly, "Why don't I just roll all my barrels 'n' casks out to the pond and empty 'em inta it? That fish'd be feelin' no pain in no time at all. Then you otters could just swim down an' carry it outta the water. T'wouldn't be in no shape t'resist you, I'd wager my spikes on it!"

This little snatch of jovial absurdity was just what was needed to lighten the mood around the dinner table, and everybeast - even Geoff - chuckled at the mental picture of the terrible pike laid low by Redwall's store of spirits and cordials.

All except Vanessa, who remained very contemplative and quiet for the remainder of the meal, lost in private thoughts of her own.

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"Yes," Vanessa said to herself, "I'm very sure it can be done."

She and Sister Aurelia sat at the little table tucked into the back corner of the Infirmary, poring over old journals of healerbeasts past. The night was late, and they spoke in whispers so as not to disturb the convalescent Turoh who slumbered several beds away. They did their reading by the low light of a single partially-shaded lamp, and their eyes were growing weary.

"It would help if I knew exactly what we were looking for," Aurelia said somewhat testily.

"I told you - sleep potions, sedatives, a drug that's powerful enough to knock out even the largest creature ... "

The younger mouse stifled a yawn. "Oh, I can guess what you have in mind, Vanessa. But all the remedies and recipes in these volumes are for the furred and feathered folk, the warm-blooded air-breathers. We have no way of knowing whether any of them would even work on a fish. And even if we could know that for sure, what would we do then? Have Montybank and his otters swim down and say, 'Please open your mouth, Mr. Pike, while we spoon some of this delicious medicine down your throat?'"

"I'll admit I don't have all the finer details worked out. But the answer we're looking for - or the start of it, at any rate - is somewhere in these books. I feel sure of it."

Aurelia stretched, several of her stiff joints cracking in protest at once. "I'm sorry, Vanessa, but I'm done in. If I force myself to stay awake much longer I'll be no good to anybeast, tonight or tomorrow."

"Oh, by all means, get some sleep. You've already put in longer hours than I could have asked of you."

Aurelia stood. "Ooo, my bed will feel good tonight. Are you coming?"

Vanessa shook her head. "I want to keep at this awhile longer. I can't help but feel I'm on the verge of discovering what we need. Remember, I'm used to pulling all-nighters from my own days as Infirmary keeper."

"Yes," said Aurelia. "So you should know better than anybeast that the brain doesn't do its best work when it's all full of cobwebs. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with my pillow."


	2. Chapter 2

It took two more days, but at last Vanessa was satisfied she'd found what she was looking for, and met with the Abbey leaders in her study.

"I have discovered a potion," she announced, "that I am confident will knock that pike out cold, or at the very least make it extremely woozy ... enough so that a team of otters should be able to approach it safely and remove it from the pond. The biggest problem will be administering the drug, and I think I've devised a solution for that as well. We will feed the potion to it. Now, what do pike eat?"

"Otters," Montybank said glumly.

"Robins," said Alexander.

"And other fish," added Geoff, "which is all we have left, now that the shrimp are all gone."

"Hey, that's it, Geoff matey!" Monty slapped his thigh. "We'll hook in one o' the other fish, stew it in Nessa's sleepy juice, an' throw it back in fer that big glutton t'gobble up! Er, 'ow exactly does one marinate a fish in sleep potion, anyhow?"

"That's not the only hurdle," the Abbess said to the otter skipper. "How many fish have you caught since that pike made itself known?"

"Not a one, 'fraid."

"That's what I thought. That pike has spooked all the other fish, and they're too busy trying to avoid getting eaten themselves to pay much attention to our baited lines. But even if we did manage to catch one, there's no guarantee the pike will eat a fish that's already dead, or one that's been soaked in medicine, and that's assuming the potion doesn't wash off the skin when we put our treated fish back in the pond. No, we need a more surefire way to deliver the drug, and I think I know what it is. What was our pike devouring before anything else?"

"Why, th' shrimp, o' course," said Monty. "That why they're all gone."

Vanessa nodded. "I'll assume we're all agreed that we won't be feeding anymore otters or birds to that monster. And since, from the beginning, it's shown a preference for shrimp over fish, that's what we'll give it. Monty, I think it's time for you and your otters to make another restocking expedition to the River Moss. Bring me back two barrels of watershrimp. One we'll use to restock the pond after this is all over. The other I'll lace with my concoction and feed to the pike ... and then, hopefully, that will put an end to its reign of terror!"

"I'll start organizin' it straightaways," the otter declared. "Long as you don't think we'll be leavin' our Abbey too lightly defended with all us waterdogs gone. An excursion like this'll be at least an overnighter, an' mebbe more."

"Hmmm ... I hadn't considered that. But I don't think it will be any cause for worry. We'll still have all of Alexander's squirrels, and Maura ..."

"Not me, I'm afraid," the big badger said, speaking for the first time. "I'm the only beast at Redwall strong enough to pull our Abbey cart when it's laden with two huge barrels of water and shrimp. I have to go with them, Vanessa."

"Oh. Well, it's been many a season since any enemy horde has troubled Mossflower country. The sword and shield of our founder Martin the Warrior have hung on display, unused, in Great Hall since before I was born. I doubt an army of vermin is likely to show up at precisely this time. But I'll take precautions just to make sure."

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The sparrows were sent out before dawn, winging their way north, south, east and west as the first rosy fingers of the coming day carressed the eastern horizon above the dark treetops of Mossflower. The first scouts were already returning by sunrise, delivering their reports that there was no sign of any foebeasts within a day's march of Redwall in any direction. Encouraged by this news, the shrimping party set out.

Vanessa and the other Abbey leaders saw them off from the walltop. Leaving by the east wallgate, over a score of otters trooped into the woods with Montybank at their head; only Stroker and Turoh remained behind on account of their injuries. And there in the midst of the column went Maura, drawing the Abbey cart on which rode two of the biggest barrel-vats that could be moved by a single beast. Her burden now was ungainly but light; the return trip to Redwall, by contrast, would demand every ounce of her badger strength to pull the load of both water-filled caskets.

The party quickly disappeared into the forest. "I hope they have good luck," said Alexander.

"Oh, I'm sure they will," Geoff stated with confidence. "Nobeast can net up those shrimp like otters can. They'll be back tomorrow or the day after with all the shrimp Vanessa needs to carry out her plan."

"After which we'll be carrying out the pike, I hope," Alex said.

"We won't be carrying out anything unless I get started on the sleeping potion," Vanessa berated herself. "We'll need a lot of it, I'm sure, for a fish that size."

"Wish I could lend you a paw," Aurelia put in, "but with Maura away, the task of looking after all the Abbey youngsters falls to me, I'm afraid. Those little horrors are going to run me ragged, you just watch!"

"That's no way to talk about Redwall's children," Vanessa mildly chastised her. "Really, Aurelia, if you ever hope to be a success as our Infirmary keeper, you're going to have to learn how to relate to the little ones better. It goes with the job."

"Yeah," Alex snickered, "think of these next few days as a little much-needed practice for your bedside manner."

Aurelia rolled her eyes. "No otters to help defend the Abbey if we're attacked, and no Maura to perform her usual badger's mothering duties ... "

"We'll just have to get by as best we can," Vanessa shrugged. "As Alex said, it's only for a few days. I'm confident everything will be just fine."

And down in the pond, the great fish's fantastic hunger grew ...

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Binsley the dormouse had made good his escape.

It was the second afternoon since the departure of Maura and the otters, and Sister Aurelia and the Abbey children were growing very tired of each other. The young healer mouse tried to maintain stern discipline among the children, but she was still seasons away from possessing the practiced combination of toughness and loving that Maura had mastered long ago. The harder she tried to make her charges obey her, the more she goaded them into flaunting her authority.

On this particular occasion she had tried to force them all to stay down in the gloom of Cavern Hole while the summer sun outside beckoned. The result had been a full-scale rebellion from the antsy and fidgety children, and then pandemonium as some fled down the tunnels to the cellars and others sprinted up the stairs into Great Hall.

As far as he could tell, Binsley was the only one who'd made it this far. He almost thought Sister Aurelia was going to spot him hiding behind the tapestry, but she'd stormed right past him in search of Droge, the chief instigator of their behavioral mayhem. And so Binsley had ducked past her and outdoors.

Checking to make sure the coast was clear, Binsley made his way across the lawns to the pond. The only creatures in sight were a pair of squirrels up on the ramparts of the outer wall, but their backs were to him as they gazed out over the sunbathed countryside.

Nobeast was supposed to be near the pond, but there were no otters to guard it now, so the toddler dormouse figured it would be a good place to avoid discovery for at least a little while. Binsley had not been present during the attack on Turoh, but he'd heard all about it from Droge and was sorry he'd missed it - it had sounded very exciting to hear his hedgehog playmate tell it. The killing of the robin had been kept a secret from the Abbey children; Vanessa felt they'd been traumatized enough by the incident with Turoh and didn't wish to further fuel their nightmares. Had Binsley been aware of the robin's fate, he might have thought twice about going to the pond to try to see the fish. But Droge (who had been certain to play up his own brave part in the matter) had made it all sound like a grand adventure, and Binsley wanted to be a part of it.

Kneeling on the bank, he fished into his jerkin pocket for the pawful of bread he'd pilfered earlier from the kitchens, right behind Friar Hugh's back. The others had been throwing bread into the pond on the day of the attack, and it had worked then, so it ought to work now.

Binsley tore off several chunks and cast them onto the water, impatient for the fish to appear in the way that only youngbeasts can be impatient, and disappointed that his efforts were not being instantly rewarded. When all his bread was dispensed and there was still no sign of the spectacular creature, he began to wonder whether it had been a mistake to come here.

Suddenly he thought he heard somebeast calling his name from the orchard, and turned to look, but he could see nobeast. Still, he'd better get going. He'd be discovered here eventually, and Redwall was so full of wonderful places to hide.

There was the sound of a great splash in front of him, and Binsley turned to look back at the pond. He had just enough time to glimpse a world that had become all sharp curved teeth framing a tunnel that led down into the darkness of eternity, and then ...

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"Has anybeast seen Binsley?"

Sister Aurelia went from room to room, asking everybeast she met the same question. All of her other wayward charges had been successfully rounded up and left in the care of Brother Geoff, who was nominally Redwall's teacher and thus somewhat more adept at controlling them, even if he wasn't in the same league as Maura. For her part, Aurelia was glad to have a respite from her babysitting responsibilities.

"Grrr, these young ones will turn my fur all gray before this season's out, they will! Well, that little rip of a dormouse doesn't seem to be indoors anywhere, so I'd best check the grounds. Don't see how he could've gotten out past me though ... "

She went right up to the walltop to ask the squirrels on lookout duty whether they'd seen Binsley, but they shook their heads. Aurelia made her own complete circuit of the walltop, all the way around the Abbey, since that would give her the best overview of the grounds. She could see no sign of the dormouse, and descended the wallsteps.

At the base of the stairs she grabbed up a wicker basket and headed for the orchard. Friar Hugh had asked her to pick some damsons for him while she was out here, and since there were concealed spots under the fruit trees that could not be seen from the walltop, she might as well check to see whether Binsley was hiding there.

Aurelia took a short cut across the lawns that skirted the pond. Steering clear of the damp bank by what she supposed was a safe margin, she was so preoccupied by her thoughts that she nearly stepped on the thing lying on the grass.

For a few moments she simply stood staring at it. Then the basket slipped from her suddenly weak grasp, she put a paw to her mouth to stifle a cry and a gag, and all the color blanched from her face. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she ran to inform the Abbess.

Halfway to the Abbey she came to a dead stop, then forced herself to turn and march unsteadily back toward the pond. She couldn't just leave it lying there; what if one of the other children got out and saw it?

Steeling herself, Aurelia bent down and picked up the severed footpaw - the one with the all-too-familiar mole on the third toe. The flesh was still warm to the touch.

Clutching the dismembered limb close to her habit lest anybeast see what she was carrying, Aurelia went to report Redwall's latest tragedy to Vanessa.

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In the privacy of Abbess Vanessa's study, Geoff wrung his paws like an old mousewife. "Whatever shall we tell the children?"

"We'll tell them the truth," Vanessa said stoically. "That one of their playmates has been taken away by that murdering fish, and won't ever be coming back."

A pall of sorrow hung over the trio of Vanessa, Geoff and Alexander. On the Abbess's desk before them lay Binsley's footpaw, now lovingly swathed in gauze; those bandages were a poor excuse for a burial shroud, but it was all that the departed dormouse would be getting, since a thorough survey of the pond's banks and the surrounding grounds had turned up no more remains. The rest of Binsley was at the bottom of the pond with the pike.

"Isn't it possible the child might still be alive somewhere?" Geoff asked, clinging to some small impossible hope. "I mean, we never did find the rest of the body. Maybe he was thrown clear in the attack, and crawled away somewhere ... "

Vanessa shook her head. "Even if that were the case, he would have bled to death by now. But we've searched everywhere, and found nothing. I've spoken with Flashtail and Elmwood, the two squirrels on sentry duty when this happened. They said they heard a splash, but when they looked down all they saw were ripples near the bank where Aurelia found this. No sign of the fish, or anybeast else. Our only consolation must be that it was all over very quickly. Binsley is gone, Geoff ... we'll just have to accept it."

"This has gone too far!" Alexander declared. "We've gotta do something ... now!"

"We are," Vanessa reminded her old squirrel friend. "That's why we sent out Maura and Monty, remember?"

"A lot of good they're doing us now," he scowled. "If Maura had been here - "

"I'll have no paw-pointing or accusations!" Vanessa snapped. "Our loss here is great enough without that. Poor Aurelia blames herself totally - she was so distraught, I had to give her a cup of tea with some of that potion I'm preparing for the pike stirred into it, just to calm her down. She'll have a very rough time of this, I'm afraid."

"Yes, the poor child," Geoff agreed. "However will she cope with this?"

"I'm just sayin', we ought not to just sit here and do nothing," insisted Alex, "now that we know Maura and the otters are going to be delayed."

Vanessa mulled over Alexander's point. No sooner had Aurelia delivered her devastating news to the Abbess than two of Redwall's sparrows had returned from their foraging with a disheartening report from the shrimping expedition. The heavily-laden cart had broken its axle on a protruding root along the forest path and spilled its load. The otters would have to fashion a new axle, and then return to the River Moss to net more shrimp to replace what had been lost. It would be another two days at least before the party would return to the Abbey.

"We will do nothing about that pike until their return," Vanessa said decisively. "This is a job for otters, not any of us. For now, we have a loved one to put to rest." She gingerly picked up the wrapped appendage before her. "We've all got some healing to do, before anything else."

Alexander's features remained dangerously clouded. "I dunno, Geoff - your idea about poisoning that fish is starting to sound pretty good to me right now."

"Yes, I can understand you feeling that way," Vanessa said. "I almost feel that way myself. But those thoughts are not worthy of us as Redwallers. That pike will be put to rights in the proper way, at the proper time. This is a time of grief, a time for mourning. Tomorrow we will hold a memorial for Binsley, lay to rest what fate has left us of him, and console each other as best we can. I would normally want to wait until we are all here, but we shall have to proceed without Monty or Maura, sorry as they will be to miss it. Our Abbey needs comforting, and that means getting this behind us as soon as we possibly can."

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It was one of the saddest days in Redwall's long history.

Without even a full body to properly bury, it was difficult to know how to arrange the ceremony. Vanessa decreed, after much agonizing debate with herself, that a grave be dug that was Binsley's full size and thus commemorate their departed little one. The other Abbey children were not brought outside until after the enshrouded footpaw was laid to rest at the bottom of the grave and the burial pit filled in by the Foremole and his crew.

A few of the youngsters wanted to know how Binsley could be buried under this low mound if he'd been eaten by the pike. Vanessa deftly avoided the grisly details as best she could, assuring them that the real Binsley - the spirit and essence of the dormouse they all knew and loved - lay here where his friends could always come to visit him, no matter what had happened to his flesh and blood. They knew not to question their wise Abbess, and even if they didn't fully understand her explanation, it did make them feel better.

Each of the Redwallers at the somber graveside memorial was invited to share some special personal memory they had of Binsley, or to recite a song or poem of significance to the occasion. When Sister Aurelia's turn came, she tearfully began to sing a song which had been one of the little dormouse's favorites:

"Autumn, winter, summer, spring,

I love the joys each season brings.

Autumn leaves of gold and red,

Winter nights snug in my bed.

Springtime wakes the world 'round,

Summers cooling by the pond ... "

At that point Aurelia broke down into uncontrollable sobs and was unable to go on. Stroker and Turoh, the two otters left behind at the Abbey, took her into their paws with gentle hugs and comforting pats on her back and shoulders. As the only ones present who'd tangled with the dreaded fish firstpaw, their consolation meant more to her than it would have coming from anybeast else.

With the service concluded, the mourners broke up into small groups and filed back indoors. Alexander beckoned the two otters to wait outside with him after most of the others had returned to the Abbey.

"Isn't there an old coracle or rowboat stowed away in one of the storage sheds?" the squirrel chief inquired.

"Shore, I think so," Stroker replied. "Hasn't been used in ages, tho'. We otters get along well enuff in th' pond on our own, we don't need a boat."

"These days you might. Listen, I say something needs to be done about that pike now. We can't wait for the others to return. Vanessa might not agree, but this situation demands action, and demands it now."

The two otters said nothing, but their grim faces conveyed more than words could have.

Stroker gave an abrupt nod for Alexander to go on. "Tell us what y'got in mind, Alex matey."

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Flashtail, despite his name, was not particularly quick for a squirrel. He was, however, extremely sturdy for his species, as broad in the shoulder as any otter, with arms like treetrunks and paws like grappling hooks. Moreover, his skill with spear and javelin was the equal of his ability with bow and arrow. To top it off, he was a much better swimmer than most of his kind. All of these attributes made him the perfect candidate for the job at paw.

Alexander desperately wanted to be one of the small crew, since the whole venture was his idea, but the tiny coracle would hold only three large beasts at most, and Flashtail had persuasively argued that the third spot should go to him. The first two spots, naturally, went to Stroker and Turoh. Even with their still-mending injuries, the two otters were the strongest and ablest waterbeasts present at the Abbey. And since the strategy they had in mind required great upper-body strength, Flashtail was more qualified to join them than any of the other squirrels or any of Redwall's mice, moles, or hedgehogs.

Under a brooding sky of lifeless gray, half the Abbey had turned out onto the lawns by the pond to witness the hunt. Abbess Vanessa stood gravely among them, paws clasped solemnly before her. She did not approve of this, not one bit, but the dangerous look on the faces of Alex, Flashtail and the two otters told her not to interfere. If she tried to forbid this, she knew they would proceed anyway, and then she would be faced with the additional burden of having to discipline old friends for flagrantly disobeying a direct order from their Abbess.

But that would not stop her from voicing her objections. "Again, I must make it clear that this action is against my better judgment, and I do not sanction it."

"With or without your blessing, Nessa, it needs to be done," Alexander said grimly.

"No it doesn't," she argued for the fifth time. "That pike can wait. This day should be for honoring the memory of the little one who was taken to the Dark Forest many seasons before his proper time. This foolish bravado does nothing to cherish Binsley. It is cold revenge, nothing more ... and against a creature that doesn't even think or feel the way we do. And if any of you meets harm out on this pond today, we will be the ones stuck with cleaning up your mess."

Alex turned from the boat, undergoing its final preparations on the shore, and faced the Abbess. He seemed about to say something, but remained silent.

Vanessa shook her head. "Two lame otters and a squirrel. What do you hope to accomplish?"

Turoh and Stroker came over to her. Their manner was confident and calm, but beneath their smooth bearing was the hardness of warriors going off to battle. "With all due respect, ma'am, we ain't wadin' in t'play tag with the varmint," said young Turoh. "We aims t'kill it, an' we're loaded fer bear."

That much was true. A dozen of the otters' regular double-pointed steel javelins had been wrapped around their hafts with heavy iron chain so that they might better penetrate the pike's tough exterior.

"Our sore legs 'n' rudders ought not t'be a worry," Stroker maintained, "since I don't plan on doin' any swimmin' today. The plan's to harpoon that monster from inside th' boat, as many times as it takes 'til it's dead."

"Strong paws an' shoulders, that's the order of the day," Flashtail seconded, hefting one of the weighted javelins to get a feel for it.

"Tho', I'm kinda half-hopin' I do get pitched overboard," said Turoh, running his paw along his bandolero-style torso harness with its assortment of over a dozen daggers. "If'n we do get up close an' pers'nal, I'll stick 'im so full of blades, 'ee'll look like a soakin' hedgehog!"

"Be careful what you wish for," Vanessa spoke softly. "You may get it."

Flashtail and the two otters piled into the tiny craft, which was pushed fully into the water by Alex and the rest of the squirrels. Turoh and Stroker rowed the coracle out to the middle of the pond while the sharp-eyed Flashtail stood at the prow, watchful for the first sign of their quarry.

"What if 'ee don't show?" Turoh wondered. "We're ready fer him, but wot if 'ee's not ready fer us?"

"I know whatcher mean," said Stroker. "We'll just hafta hope one dormouse babe wasn't enuff t'fill its ugly belly."

It turned out they were worrying about exactly the wrong thing.

00000000000

For the great fish, all of existence had been reduced to its insane craving for a further taste of that warm-blooded meat.

First the winged flying creature, followed by the small furred beast, had spurred its hunger to ever-higher levels, driving its insatiable desire for more. It must have more. If only others of the land and sky creatures would put themselves within its striking range ...

Then came the boat. The great fish could see the trio aboard, leaning over the sides to gaze down below the surface. All that separated the fish from its next meal was that thin wooden shell, that bobbed and rocked upon the water at the slightest shifting of its passengers. And that would hardly be enough of a shield to deter the mighty finned hunter.

Thrashing its massive tail with a frenzy that roiled the waters in its wake, the fish charged.

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"Here it comes!" Flashtail cried.

The burly squirrel didn't even have time to raise his javelin fully into throwing position before the pike rammed the keel of their small boat. Stroker grabbed Flashtail by the brush, which was the only thing that kept the squirrel from going overboard. The two otters shipped their oars and took up their own makeshift harpoons, careful to stand so that their weight was evenly distributed throughout the coracle. "Well, we don't hafta worry 'bout findin' that brute," said Turoh. "It's found us, an' no mistake!"

Flashtail dug the treeclimbing claws of his footpaws into the wood beneath his feet, legs spread wide for stability as he waited for the boat to stop rocking and the pike to reappear. "Just let it try 'n' do that again!" he challenged, javelin raised for throwing above his shoulder.

"Don't look now, but 'ere it comes again!" Stroker warned. "Comin' in on th' portside!"

The pike's second attack came at a more oblique angle, a glancing blow intended to topple one or all of them into the water. Its attack failed on two fronts: not only did all three woodlanders remain aboard, but the less direct approach allowed the Redwallers to launch their lethal missiles as the pike skimmed by.

"Missed 'im!" Turoh spat in frustration.

"Mine went in an' came out again!" Flashtail said.

"Mine found its mark," Stroker nodded in satisfaction, "right b'hind th' gills. But I think yers did some damage too, Flash matey. Prob'ly tore a nice chunk outta its side when yon weighted shaft fell out. Take heart, Turoh, y'did well ... an' you may get a second chance, if that monster takes another swipe at us."

The three of them reached for new javelins.

And then ... nothing.

No matter how intently they gazed into the pond, they could see no sign of the terrible fish anywhere. The tense moments dragged out, and their muscles began to burn with the exertion of holding their heavy spears at the ready. All around them remained calm, the pond's still surface reflecting the silver sky like a giant mirror.

"Think we might've killed it?" Flashtail ventured.

"Dunno," Stroker muttered. "Could be. We're over th' deepest part o' the pond 'ere, so it could've sunk down to th' bottom. Tho' dead fish usually float belly up. Mebbe it's just injured an' down there sulking, steering clear of us after th' punishment we gave it."

"Hope not." Young Turoh was clearly disappointed. "Won't be a worthwhile outin' fer me unless that pike tastes some o' my steel too!"

"Dead's dead, an that's good enough for me," Flashtail maintained. "If Stroker's throw was all it took - "

The pike shot straight up out of the water like a geyser, erupting from the depths in a wild cascade of spray and spume that broke the calm surface a mere paw's breadth from the boat's rim. Big as any three otters, longer than the boat in which its hunters stood, the pike seemed to hang frozen in time for a heartbeat, nearly its entire body standing on end above the pond. Stroker's impaling javelin stuck out from its flank, clear against the overcast sky.

Then, before any of the Redwallers could react, the pike twisted its huge body and smashed its formidable bulk down across the coracle's pointed bow.

The boat upended. Flashtail, Stroker and Turoh were hurled into the pond as if they'd been shot from a catapult.

Flashtail found himself underwater, with hardly any breath left in his lungs. Kicking for the surface, he saw the pike going after Turoh, and Stroker swimming to the younger otter's aid. Both were hampered by their still-healing injuries, unable to swim and maneuver with their usual skill. But Flashtail would be of no use to them if he drowned, so he continued onward to the surface.

Once there, he gulped in grateful lungfuls of air, treading water. Their tiny boat floated keel-up, and beyond it the water boiled with the thrashing struggle between the pike and the otters. All of their javelins were lost, but Flashtail was determined to give his besieged friends whatever assistance he could. Drawing his dagger - the only weapon left to him now - he struck out toward them.

The pike hit him from below. It must have disengaged from the otters and, quick as lightning, redirected its attack toward the solitary target. Twoscore daggerlike teeth sank into his chest and back as those crushing jaws closed around him, driving the breath from Flashtail once more as he was dragged below the surface again.

But the stolid squirrel was a fighter. Brandishing his dagger, he brought it down on the pike's head with all the strength he could muster from his failing reserves. To his dismay, the fine blade bent against the bony armor of the pike's skull. He drew back the knife to drive it into the fish's cold dead eye, but a violent shake of the pike's head caused the dagger to slip from Flashtail's weakening grasp.

Gazing skyward as he was borne deeper, Flashtail saw his familiar world of fresh air and trees and dry land receding through the blood-clouded water ... dimmer and dimmer ... until his eyes saw no more.

The two otters staggered ashore into the welcoming paws of all their anxiously awaiting friends. Turoh fell to his knees, sucking in big gasps. "We need a bigger boat," he rasped.

Stroker remained on his feet for a moment, clutching at a bloody wound in his abdomen. "Skewered by me own harpoon," the seasoned otter groaned before falling onto his face. The other Redwallers could see the exit wound in Stroker's back; in his valiant struggle with the impaled pike, he had been run clear through by his own double-pointed javelin.

"Get him up to the Infirmary!" Vanessa ordered the squirrels around her. "At once!"

Turoh raised his head and glanced around. "Where's ... where's Flashtail?"

"We think the pike got him," Alexander answered, eyes hooded.

"What? No, not Flashtail. He's a big, strong squirrel ... a match fer anybeast. That pike couldn'ta got him." Turoh rolled onto his back, coughing. "It's just a fish, by the fur. Just ... a ... fish!"


	3. Chapter 3

Shuddering with a grieved and exhausted sigh, Vanessa pulled the sheet up over Stroker's head. "Rest well, old friend ... you've earned it."

Absolute silence hung over the Infirmary, in spite of the number of creatures gathered there. Redwall had just lost one of its best; Stroker had been a stalwart of the Abbey's otter crews since Vanessa was a child, and everybeast present knew the Abbess would be particularly affected by his death ... especially since she and Sister Aurelia had battled well into the night, drawing upon every ounce of their combined healers' skill, striving in vain to save him.

Aurelia rested a consoling paw on her mentor's shoulder. "We did everything we could, Vanessa. His injuries were just too grave. It was out of our paws from the start."

"No, not from the start ... " She turned to regard Alexander, who stood at the fore of the onlookers. "We now have one dead otter and one dead squirrel to go with our dead dormouse. I hope you're happy."

Alexander and the Abbess were childhood friends, as close as any two Redwallers could be; as such, she felt she could be more forthright and unsparing in her criticism of him than she normally would be with those under her authority.

"Stroker was my friend too," Alex said grimly. "And let's not forget Flashtail - he was one of my best squirrels. We had no way to know this would turn into such a disaster. It could have turned out very differently, with that pike dead. We weighed our chances, and decided it was a risk worth taking. And if I had it to do all over again, I'd go out on that boat myself."

"And if I had it to do all over again," Vanessa bit off her words, "I'd have had Balla fetch her biggest bung hammer from the cellars and smash in the bottom of that boat, if that's what it had taken to keep Stroker, Turoh and Flashtail from going out onto the pond. Two fine beasts would still be alive now, had I stuck to my resolve and not allowed you to partake in this foolishness. It is a regret I will carry with me for the rest of my seasons."

"I'm sorry, Abbess," spoke up Turoh; the young otter had suffered no more than bruises and scratches in his bout with the pike, thanks in large part to Stroker's timely intervention. "We should've listened to you."

"We should always listen to our Abbess, all of us," Geoff said to everybeast there. "She is the head of our order for a reason, and today we have seen what happens when we choose not to heed her wisdom and counsel."

"Thank you, Geoff." Vanessa stood and stretched her tired muscles, feeling totally drained. She ran her gaze over all the sad faces around her, made even more somber by the late night lamplight. "We will deal with this pike as I originally planned. We will wait for Montybank and Maura to return so that they can handle the matter properly. Until then, nobeast else is to go near the pond. No more heroics or foolish displays of bravery, or misguided attempts to avenge our fallen loved ones. And that is an order."

"You won't hafta tell us again, ma'am," Turoh said sheepishly. "'sides which, our only boat's still adrift in th' middle of th' pond ... an' I fer one shore as shrimp ain't swimmin' out t'retrieve it."

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It was late the following afternoon when the shrimping expedition returned to Redwall. Vanessa, alerted to their approach by the Sparra, went out to meet them by the east wallgate.

The bright summer sun had returned as well, chasing away the dismal cloud cover of the previous day. The otter troop could be heard before they could be seen through the trees, boisterously singing an old marching tune with great good cheer. Clearly they were in high spirits, for they had no reason to be otherwise; the weather was perfect, their arduous task was nearly at an end, and they would soon be back amongst friends and family and enjoying all the comforts of the best home anybeast could want.

Their joyful tunemaking tapered off to perplexed silence as they broke through the trees and beheld the solitary figure of their Abbess standing outside the wall with her paws clasped solemnly before her. One look at her face was enough to tell them something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Most of the others stood back as Montybank strode up to Vanessa. Maura accompanied him, huffing and puffing as she hauled the heavy, sloshing barrels on the cart behind her. They stopped before the Abbess, concern etched on their faces. "What is it, Nessa?" the otter skipper asked.

"Yes," the big badger seconded, "what's happened, Vanessa?"

Vanessa took a few moments before speaking. She had agonized over whether she should send out the sparrows or some other messenger to inform the expedition of the tragedies that had occurred in their absence. In the end she had decided not to; news like that could be kept until the last possible moment. But now that moment had arrived, and she could put it off no longer.

"Not here," she said at last. "Not until you're all inside and settled down. Then I'll tell you everything."

00000000000

Evening shades lay over Mossflower. In the gloaming of the long summer twilight, Maura and the otters paid a visit to the new graves of the departed Redwallers.

Maura squatted over Binsley's burial mound, one massive paw pressed against the fresh earth as if the badger mother were trying to send her love to the departed dormouse through the grave and into the next world. "If only I'd been here ..."

Abbess Vanessa stood supportively alongside the big badger. "Now, Maura, I'll not have you or anybeast else blaming themselves for this tragedy. I've already been through this with Sister Aurelia, who's convinced that Binsley would still be alive if only she'd been paying a little closer attention ... "

"She's right," Maura said softly, dispassionately.

"Maybe she is," Vanessa nodded, "but she doesn't need to ever hear you or any of us telling her that. She's being quite hard on herself, and she'll need all the understanding and support we can give her. There's nobeast at Redwall who can get our children to behave the way you can, Maura, not even Brother Geoff. By all accounts, they were acting especially rambunctious that afternoon, running every way at once. Poor Aurelia was simply overmatched, in spite of her best efforts. She is inconsolable as it is - we must not put this on her shoulders."

Maura climbed to her feet. "There's only one creature I blame for this, and that's that damnable pike. If I could get my paws around its throat right this moment," she glared toward the evening-shimmery pond, "I'd show it what I think about fish who kill our young ones."

"No profit in revenge, Maura mum," Montybank said from a few paces away, where he knelt at his otter friend's grave. "Old Stroker 'ere's proof enuff o' that. Poor ol' Stroke - he was teaching' me th' ropes of bein' a proper waterdog when I was still a wet-b'hind-th'-ears pup. He was as much a Skipper as I'll ever be." He sniffed and pawed away a tear, and many of the other otters assembled behind him followed suit.

"I know it's difficult, coming home after a long hard journey only to be met by such terrible news as this," said Vanessa. "You must all be bone tired. Get a good night's rest, all of you, and tomorrow we'll do what needs to be done about that pike."

Monty stood to face her. "Beggin' yer pardon, Nessa, but if y'think there's a single one o' us who's gonna be able t'sleep sound in our beds tonight while three of our Abbeymates're sleepin' under cold earth or at th' bottom of th' pond, yore very much mistaken. We got work t'do, so I says let's get to it!"

"Hear hear," agreed Maura. "My paws are at your command, Vanessa. Just tell me what to do."

00000000000

They worked throughout the night. First, they drained one of the barrels and laid the shrimp out on trays on the big table in Cavern Hole. Before proceeding, the empty barrel was refilled with fresh water from the Abbey's stocks of drinking rainwater, and the remaining live shrimp were evenly divided between the two containers so that they would not go foul while they were awaiting introduction to the pond. The Redwallers had a pike to take care of before that could happen.

Vanessa decided that simply soaking the shrimp in her sedative potion would not be sufficient; the drug might wash off in the pond before the pike had a chance to eat its fill. So, she instructed that each individual shrimp be cut open, stuffed with a tiny wad of bread heavily laced with the potion, and then meticulously sewn closed again with vegetable thread. It was painstaking work, and every beast in the Abbey with any sewing skill was called upon to lend a paw.

By dawn, nearly two hundred of the shrimp had been thus prepared. Alexander set aside his knife and flexed his stiff paws. "There, that's the last of them. Think that'll be enough to knock that fish out?"

"Let me put it this way," Vanessa answered, eyes squinted as she checked the sutures on the shrimp spread out before her. "There's enough of the drug in all of these to stop the hearts of any five ordinary creatures. If we can get the pike to consume most of them, it'll have a nice little nap for itself."

"Assuming this drug affects fish at all," Sister Aurelia put in tiredly.

"Tut tut, there, missy - no cause fer bein' pessimistic." Montybank surveyed the riches of crustaceans displayed under his nose. "Shame t' waste all these perfectly good watershrimp on that bloodthirsty scumfins. They'd be soooo good in a nice big steamin' cauldron o' hotroot soup, or mebbe in pasties, with leeks 'n' onions, or mebbe mushrooms ... "

"But it's all for a good cause," Alex reminded him. "Once we're rid of that pike, you can restock the pond with shrimp, and then you'll be able to scoff on those delicacies anytime you want."

"Squirrels and otters," Mother Maura shook her big striped head. "How anybeast can think of food during times like these ... "

"Hey, a body's gotta eat, through good an' bad," Monty protested.

"Yeah," Alex added, "and just be glad there are no hares living at Redwall currently, or you'd see the real meaning of a scofferbeast."

"Well, all this talk of food is making _me_ hungry," Brother Geoff said. "And it is almost dawn ..."

"Past dawn, actually," Friar Hugh informed him. "I can see the windows up in Great Hall starting to glow with the morning light. Let me go fire up the ovens and see what I can scrape together for breakfast." With that, the mouse cook stalked off toward the kitchens.

"Sounds like it's going to be awhile before the morning meal's ready," Maura surmised. "We've worked all night on this - I say we might as well get right to it and see if this is going to work. While we're waiting for our breakfast, let's go and give the pike his."

00000000000

The treated shrimp were loaded into a barrel and carted out to the pond by Maura. The formidable badger was the only Redwaller big enough to be in no great danger from the pike. Nevertheless, all the otters went with her. If the predatory fish had the audacity to attack her, they all wanted to be there with their javelins at the ready. A clear shot at the pike now might eliminate the need to engage it in the water, if they could sink enough shafts into it from the bank.

But their adversary made no appearance. Maura waded in up to her knees and tipped her load of shrimp into the pond. A few of the crustaceans sank straight to the shallow bottom, but most floated, buoyed by the lighter bread and air pockets trapped in their sewn-together shells. Like a loose raft they drifted upon the surface as Maura retreated to the shore. Together, she and the otters regarded the results of her labor. "I hope that confounded fish shows up before most of those shrimp sink. They won't be as easy to find if they're all lying in the bottom mud."

"Wouldn't worry 'bout that," said Montybank. "That thing's so ravenous, it'll go fer anything that moves, or smells like food. Actshully surprised it hasn't reared its ugly head already."

"Mebbe that run-in with me 'n' Flash 'n' Stroker gave it pause," Turoh said. "After all, we did leave a harpoon stuck in its side."

"Then let's all move back from the water's edge," Maura advised. "This plan of Vanessa's is our best bet for disposing of this pike, and we don't want to intimidate it."

They all shuffled backward several paces, putting a safe distance between themselves and the bank so that they wouldn't scare away their quarry. They didn't want to go back inside the Abbey, since somebeast had to watch to make sure the pike consumed the shrimp. And so, in the cool crisp air of a magnificently dawning summer morning, they stood and watched and waited.

They didn't have to wait long. A rippling disturbance along the surface revealed the pike's wake, making straight for the mass of shrimp. The upper curve of its toothed jaw broke the surface as it tore into the bait set out for it.

"Eat up, me hearty," Monty growled in satisfaction. "We made 'em special, jus' fer you!"

00000000000

While most of the Abbey took their breakfast in Great Hall, the otters met out in the privacy of the orchard to discuss their strategy. Vanessa joined them, seated to one side on a mossy old stump.

Montybank addressed the troop. "We can't know fer shore whether Nessa's potion is gonna affect that fish or no. Either way, this ends t'day. That pike's been a danger in our midst fer too long. We'll wait 'til late afternoon - if th' drug's gonna work at all, that'll give it enuff time t' kick in to the fullest."

He slowly swept his gaze over the faces of his otters. "Now, I don't hafta tell you it's gonna be a risky affair. We've all seen what that terror can do. We know it's capable of killin' even th' best of us. If yon pike's fully awake an' in a fightin' mood when we meet it, there's a chance some o' us here might not see another sunrise. That's why I'm not orderin' anybeast t'do what I'm proposin'. This'll be by volunteer only. Nobeast'll think any less o' any otter 'ere who decides not t' take part. Now, let's see a show o' paws from those foolhardy enuff t' wanna dance with our scaly friend down there ... "

Without a moment's hesitation, every single otter's paw shot up.

Monty grinned. "Yeah, that's about what I figgered from you lot o' sopheads. Glad t' see yore all just as brave as y'are foolish. Now, th' plan's simple: two javelins to each otter, an' we all stick t'gether. If'n that pike's plannin' on havin' otter on its dinner menu, it'll hafta contend with all o' us at once, an' that puts th' odds heavily in our favor. T'would be an extra comfort if we could all wear chain mail fer this battle, but it'd be too heavy an' slow us down too much even if we had armor fer everybeast. We'll be travelin' light - it's gonna be our natural swimmin' skill an' otter agility that's our best weapon. That, an' our javelins."

Every head nodded in enthusiastic agreement. "Awright, then. Now, our noble Abbess's got a few words 'fore we adjourn. Nessa, they're all yores."

"Thank you, Monty." Vanessa stood to address the group. "First of all, let me thank all of you for your courage. As has been said, your endeavor will not be without its danger. But we must be rid of this menace, and you otters are our only hope of accomplishing this. I cannot express deeply enough my gratitude for your willingness to risk life and limb for this cause. If you are successful, this entire Abbey will be indebted to you.

"That said, I must stress something else. This is an extraordinary time for Redwall. It is not our way to seek revenge for its own sake, or to act with malice against another living creature. Normally, when we take a fish from our pond once every season or two, it is to use it gratefully for food. And, normally, when we face an enemy of Redwall, it is because we are attacked, and must fight to defend ourselves. But nothing about this situation is normal. Our Abbey has never known a threat like this before, within our own walls. We will not be killing that pike for food, and we will not be meeting it in honorable battle as we would a foebeast. We will be hunting it with the sole purpose of exterminating it. I gain no joy from having a paw in such a scheme. That pike must die, true ... but I will take no satisfaction from its death. And neither should any of you. This course of action is necessary. That does not mean we should enjoy it."

The otters somberly digested her words. They had needed this reminder of all Redwall stood for. Montybank's crew were honorable and goodhearted to a beast, but they had indeed let their desire to avenge their fellow Redwallers influence them. They realized they must bear no enmity toward their quarry; to do so would not properly honor their fallen comrades.

"Right, then." Monty said, taking the stump back from Vanessa. "Let's go get some o' that good scoff Friar Hugh cooked up. This'll be our big meal fer th' day - no swimmin' on a full stomach, y'know. So eat yer fill now!"

00000000000

The great fish felt strange.

The sudden reappearance of so many shrimp in the pond had mystified it, as had the fact that they were already dead. And there had been a peculiar taste and texture to them. But all of this meant nothing in the face of its all-consuming hunger. Not even the land-dwellers' barb in its side, and the injuries that were ever-so-slowly draining its life away, could command its attention through the mindless drive to gain its next meal.

The shrimp were not warm, or bloody. They were nearly unpalatable after the new and infinitely more satisfying tastes the fish had so recently acquired. But no more of the fulfilling land creatures had placed themselves where it could get at their meat. And survival meant getting more food. Any food. So, it had eaten the shrimp. All of them, even the ones that had to be picked one by one out of the bottom mud.

Now, as the morning wore on toward noon, the great fish was feeling more and more lethargic, almost at a remove from its watery world. It lay in its grotto, unquestioning of the waves of sleepiness sweeping through it. The fish accepted its lack of energy and alertness as perfectly natural; its primitive mind, now further limited by the drug dulling its senses, never considered that this might have been something done to it by the land creatures, by some arcane process totally beyond its meagre comprehension. No worry or doubt nagged at it in the slightest - it was the great fish, after all, lord and master of its domain. All would be well.

It would simply sleep for awhile, and let the future take care of itself ...

00000000000

The time had come for the final showdown.

Vanessa, Geoff, and many of the Abbey elders had turned out onto the lawns in a show of support for the otters. Alexander and all his squirrels stood with their bows at the ready for any assistance they might be able to render. Maura was keeping all the children occupied with games and songs and puzzles down in Cavern Hole; the Abbess did not want any young eyes to witness the hunt in case things did not go all the otters' way and there were casualties.

In the golden light of the late afternoon sun, the otters assembled in a phalanx along the pond's bank, with Montybank at the head of the formation. Vanessa clasped paws with her old friend the otter Skipper, and she gave those calloused, sure and steady flippers a warm shake of encouragement. "May luck be with you today, and all of you return from this unharmed."

"Thanks, Nessa. That's my hope - we'll just hafta see how it shakes out."

She stood aside so Alexander could bid Monty good luck for himself. Otter and squirrel embraced, pounding each other on the back. "You give that pike a few extra jabs for me. For Flashtail."

"Fer shrimp 'n' acorns, Alex matey! Yore makin' me feel like I'm departin' fer a ten-seasons' jaunt! Shore, we'll 'ave this all over with in a jiffy, you just watch ... an' yeah, I got meself a javelin 'ere with Flash's name on it, you c'n count on that."

"Now Monty," Vanessa admonished, "you remember what we talked about this morning in the orchard. I don't want that pike's suffering prolonged in any way. It's to be killed as mercifully as possible - not tortured."

"Aye. We'll remember that, Nessa. Truth t' tell, I think we're all lookin' to be done with this business as soon as may be." Monty stepped back to address his troop. "Awright, lads 'n' lasses, let's do this sharp as only proper waterdogs can. Follow my lead, an' here we go!"

The otter skipper gracefully dove headfirst into the shallows, skimming smoothly along the bottom and toward the deeper region of the pond. By ones and twos the rest of the otters dove in after him, slicing the surface with such practiced skill that barely a ripple was left in their wake. Within moments it was as if they'd all vanished from the face of the earth.

The onlookers gazed at the calm waters with collectively baited breath, waiting expectantly to see what this contest would bring.

00000000000

It ended more quickly than anybeast could have imagined. In truth, it had been over before the first otter got its fur wet.

The armed party had not been under for very long at all when several of their sleek and shiny heads broke the surface out in the middle of the pond. They conversed briefly as they tread water, then Monty flashed an "okay" signal to the landbound watchers and all the otters vanished once more. Since their words had not carried to the shore, the rest of the Redwallers were left mystified as to what was afoot.

"What do you suppose that was all about?" Geoff wondered nervously.

"Your guess is as good as mine," answered Alexander. "But they didn't seem overly excited or panicked, so I gather it's not going too badly."

"Not yet, anyway." Sister Aurelia patted her healers' bag. "But I'm keeping this ready, just in case ... "

Moments later Monty and a few of his companions emerged from the shallows and waded ashore. They seemed more frustrated than anything else. "Dead! The blasted thing's dead!"

"Well, wasn't that the whole idea?" Alex asked, puzzled by his friend's demeanor. "You certainly made quick work of it. It can't have put up much of a struggle ... "

Montybank shook his head. "T'wasn't us, Alex matey. It was dead afore we ever laid paw or javelin on it. When we didn't see it anywhere, we swam down t'survey th' bottom. Discovered it lying in a cozy li'l nook it'd made fer itself in some o' the old stone blocks left o'er from th' ruins o' Kotir - figgers a bloodthirsty brute like that'd feel at home in a tyrant's fallen castle. Anyways, when it didn't attack or stir at all, we tickled its gills with our shafts an' jabbed at it an' smacked it on th' skull. Didn't move or twitch a muscle. It's deader'n last season's dragonflies."

Alexander furrowed his brow. "I don't trust it, Monty. That monster is so full of surprises, we can't take anything for granted where it's concerned. It could just be playing dead. Or sleeping from Vanessa's potion. I say stick it full of javelins, just to be safe."

"Oh, don't worry, we'll do even better'n that," said Monty. "B'lieve me, I knows a dead fish when I see one, but like you say, can't take any chances. Ah, 'ere it comes now!"

To Monty's right, a dozen otters struggled ashore with the pike in their paws. It was all they could do to haul it out of the water and lug it up onto the greensward. The pike's slack jaw and dull, unseeing eyes were clearly those of a dead thing, but that didn't stop all the mice, moles, hedgehogs and even a few of the valiant squirrels from stepping back away from it. Even in death, the great fish was fearsome to behold.

"Egads! Look at the size of that thing!" Geoff declared. "It ... it could swallow me whole!"

Monty clapped the Recorder mouse heartily on the back. "Not much danger o' that now, Geoff matey. Tho' this time yesterday I dare say it woulda found you a tasty morsel."

"What do you think killed it?" Aurelia asked, and looked to the Abbess. "Your potion, Vanessa?"

"I'd like to think not," Vanessa said soberly. "I meant to put it to sleep, not slay it. If my work is responsible for this, it really would be almost the same as if I'd poisoned it ... "

"Don't fret yoreself, Nessa." Monty strode fearlessly right up to the pike and wiggled the javelin protruding from its side. "M'self, I'd like t' fancy it was this that did th' job. It'd be only fittin' if it was Stroker's blow that belatedly slew this menace. Old Stroke got th' last laugh on th' creature that took 'is life."

"Yes, that would indeed be poetic justice," Vanessa nodded, and some of her melancholy seemed to lift.

Alexander continued to regard the pike warily. "Can we be absolutely, positively certain that it's truly dead?"

"Yes," Geoff backed him up, "we must take no chances."

"Never met a fish that could live outta water. That's why I had my crew haul it up." Monty whacked the side of the fish hard with his heavy tail; the meaty thwack! echoed across the Abbey grounds. "We'll keep ol' ugly out 'ere on th' lawns overnight, so even if it is just playin' dead, it'll suffocate. That'll remove all doubt."

Sister Aurelia wrung her paws in thought. "Do you think we should perhaps allow the children out here to see it? Maybe if they see for themselves that it's dead, that will allay their fears ... "

"Wouldn't recommend that, missy," said Monty. "Youngbeasts're naturally curious, pokin' an' proddin' inta things. Let 'em out here, an' some o' them will prob'ly look in its mouth."

"Why? What's in its mouth?"

"Well, pike ain't 'xactly the cleanest o' creatures - bits 'n' scraps all stuck 'tween its teeth. And, er, this un's been eatin' Redwallers ... "

Aurelia blanched, and nearly fainted.

"All right," said Vanessa, "we'll keep the children well away from it. If they want a look, they can see it from the upper dormitory windows. Let it stay here on the lawn overnight, and tomorrow we'll decide how to properly dispose of it."

00000000000

The pike may have been dead, but the otters still had work to do.

Before the sun had even set, the two barrels of live shrimp were carted over to the pond to be acclimated. Two more empty barrels were rolled out, and the watershrimp divided between all four containers. Then, one cup at a time, water from the pond was slowly trickled into each barrel.

Winokur, a young otter who'd never before taken part in a restocking of the pond, asked, "Tell me again why we're doin' this?"

So's we don't shock 'em too bad," Montybank explained as he ladled pond water from a small pail into one of the barrels. "Leastways, no more'n they've already been shocked, bein' snatched from their river home an' jostled halfway through Mossflower. Y'see, water's different from place t' place, an' what we got here in our pond might not be th' same as what these shrimp're used to in the River Moss. If'n we just throws 'em inta new waters without lettin' 'em get accustomed first, it could kill 'em. So we take it nice 'n' easy, let 'em taste their new home a liddle bit at a time, an' then let 'em loose. By th' time each o' these casks is full to th' brim, should be safe t' pour 'em out inta th' pond."

"Oh." Winokur eyed the trickle with which his skipper was adding the pond water to the shrimp barrels. "At that rate, won't it take all night?"

"Mebbe," Monty nodded. "But anything worth doing's worth doin' right, eh? B'sides, looks like it'll be a beautiful summer's eve, full moon an' clear skies. A beast could spend a night in far worse places than 'ere by our splendid, pike-free pond."

Winokur threw his gaze toward the beached behemoth; the dead pike was even more ghastly to behold in the failing light of evening. "Yeah - now it's outta th' pond an' up here, givin' us all the ol' evil eye. Ugh! Gives me th' willies, just lookin' at it!"

"So don't look at it," Monty grinned. "Fer me, it's as fine a trophy as any otter could want. I could stare at it all night ... an' prob'ly will."

"What d'you reckon we'll do with it? Come tomorrow, I mean?"

"Oh, our esteemed Abbess is pretty good at comin' up with solutions fer things like this," Monty answered. "I'm sure she'll think o' something. Tho', if she's lookin' fer suggestions, I got a few I could lend her ... "

As the evening wore on and Monty tended the shrimp with his helpers, a few of the other otters swam out to retrieve the drifting coracle, now that there was no danger of an attack. Monty studied the small boat as it was hauled ashore. "Well, she looks none th' worse fer wear. Came outta her battle with th' pike in better shape than her crew, that's fer shore. Guess we won't be needin' her anymore this season."

"Should we put her back in storage?" inquired Pronk, who'd headed the recovery operation and now stood holding the prow of the boat.

"Yeah, I guess ... no, wait." Monty glanced over to where Alexander and the squirrels were busy digging an honorary grave for Flashtail alongside Binsley's and Stroker's. "Got an idea fer it. We otters don't need boats, an' nobeast else at the Abbey's used it fer ages. Lay it aside by th' pike there, an' I'll see to it later."

Pronk nodded. "Aye aye, Skip."

Come midnight, with the bright full summer moon casting its wan yellow glow down on Redwall, Monty decided the shrimp were ready for release. With two otters at each barrel, the four brimful casks were tipped slowly onto their sides, spilling their living contents into the pond in a gentle mingling of waters. Enough of the moonlight penetrated the surface for the watching otters to see a myriad of silvery ghost shapes flitting and skittering through the water, dispersing and vanishing into their new home.

"There y'go, me liddle beauties," Monty smiled. "Go be fruitful an' multiply - we've been without shrimp 'n' hotroot soup fer too long!"

00000000000

After releasing the shrimp, Montybank allowed himself a few luxurious hours of sleep - the first he'd had in two days - but was up with the dawn. He had a memorial to erect, and wanted to have it done before the day was too old.

Binsley's tiny grave was now flanked on one side by Stroker's and on the other by the symbolic burial mound the squirrels had dug for Flashtail. Monty had a notion on how to further commemorate the pike's three victims, and with the help of Foremole's digging crew, his idea was realized in no time at all.

When Vanessa came out to see it after her own late breakfast, she was somewhat at a loss for words. "Honestly, Monty, I really don't know ... it's different, I have to admit."

The coracle stood half-buried in the earth at the head of the three graves, its pointed prow aimed at the sky. The boat in which Stroker and Flashtail had bravely met the pike now watched over them like an eternal guardian.

"I like it," Maura announced.

"Well, it does sort of look like a chapel," Geoff ventured, "so I suppose it's fitting in that sense ... "

"I think Flashtail would have approved," said Alexander, "and isn't that what's really important?"

"No better tribute ol' Stroke could've wanted," Monty added. "Knew it was th' right 'n' proper thing t' do the moment the idea popped up in me noggin."

Sister Aurelia waved a paw toward the shady hollow formed by the upended vessel. "We could put fresh flowers inside, maybe in a vase, up on a pedestal ... "

Vanessa shrugged. "Well, everybeast seems to like it, so I'll go along with the crowd and say, good work, Monty!"

The otter skipper absorbed assorted backslaps and pawshakes, accepting them all with his usual easygoing nature.

"Which leaves us with just one remaining question." Maura jerked a paw toward the pike's massive carcass, festering in the morning sun. "What are we going to do with that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Vanessa said nonchalantly, glancing toward the otter chief. "Monty did such a fine job coming up with this memorial sculpture that I think I'll just leave it up to him."

"Why, certainly, Nessa," he readily agreed. "Only one thing we can do with it. Too big t'bury, an' no good fer eatin', not that we'd wanna tuck inta anything that might still have some o' our loved ones inside it. We gotta chuck it back in th' pond. Plain an' simple."

"Very well, then. No use putting it off. I hereby authorize you to remove that foul creature from our sight forthwith."

"Just a moment, Abbess," Maura said. "There's something I'd like to do first. I know it's been lying on the lawn all night and there's no chance at all that it's still alive, but it would let me rest easier ... "

"Whatever you feel is necessary, Maura," Vanessa assented.

"Okay." The big badger set off for the main Abbey building. "Be right back. Don't do anything without me."

00000000000

When Maura returned, she carried in one paw the Sword of Martin. These days that fine weapon normally hung on display in Great Hall like a revered museum piece, untouched and unused, along with its companion shield - the legendary arms of Redwall's founding mouse warrior. Nobeast by the pond that morning could recall the last time the famed sword had been brought down from its wall brackets, and the sight of their hulking badger Mother striding toward them while bearing the blade in a no-nonsense manner was one that the assembled Redwallers would long remember.

"What are you going to do, Maura?" Vanessa asked.

"Cut its infernal head off."

"Why?" asked Alexander. "It's as dead as it's gonna get."

"Because it will make me feel better," the badger replied brusquely. "Now, everybeast stand back and give me some room ... "

They did, while Maura sliced, hacked, sawed, hew and sliced some more, until the pike's head lay gruesomely severed from its body. The otter Pronk wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Ooo, an' ain't that a pretty smell?"

"Pretty sight, too," added Monty.

Maura rinsed the blade clean in the pond and passed the sword to Alexander. "I'll rest in peace knowing that this fish is resting in pieces. No chance of it coming back from the dead now." She grabbed up the massive head, nearly half as big as she was, and staggered with it to the damp bank. "A little more room, please," she grunted.

The other Redwallers, who'd begun to crowd in around the carnage, shuffled back once more. The powerful badger spun around in place - once, twice, three times - picking up speed as she held the pike's head out in front of her. At the climax of her third revolution she let go of the fish head, which went sailing far out over the water and splashed into the middle of the pond. It was an amazing demonstration of brute strength that left even the otters in awe.

"Well done, marm!" Monty applauded, and most of the onlookers joined in.

Maura was never one to bask in ovation from her fellow Abbeydwellers. She made a sour face as she wiped at her gore-spattered smock. "Afraid I've made quite a mess for our poor laundrettes. I'll have to go change out of this before any of the children see me and think I've turned into a mad butcher-beast."

"But that's exactly what you are," Monty pointed out. "You were mad at that pike, an' you butchered it right proud."

"Let us hope that all the butchering, bloodshed, killing and death are over with at Redwall for many seasons," said Vanessa. "We've lost three of our own, and slain the creature responsible. Such times of tragedy are mercifully rare at our beloved Abbey, so let us look to the future even as we remember those who are gone. And may such disaster not visit Redwall again in any of our lifetimes."

Montybank clapped his paws at his fellow otters. "Right! One last thing t' do, me buckos, an' that's to get th' rest o' this fish inta th' pond. So let's all grab onto it an' we'll swim it out to where its head's restin', an' then this'll all be over."

"Yes," Vanessa nodded. "It will finally be over."

00000000000

There was a feast at Redwall that afternoon.

It did not take place in Great Hall, or Cavern Hole, or on the lawns under the boundless blue summer sky, or in the orchard beneath the blessedly cool shade of apple, pear and plum trees. No colorful banners or bunting were hung, no cheerful songs sung, no special treats prepared in the Abbey kitchens. A great sense of relief, like the end of a nightmare, permeated Redwall, but none of the woodlanders was in any mood to celebrate. The atmosphere was a somber one. There would be occasion for festivity and frivolity in times to come, but not today.

Down in the pond, however, it was a different story. The carcass of the pike provided a bounty seldom seen in these waters. The other fish and the newly-introduced shrimp did not stop to mourn their dead or hesitate over the morality of their actions. Down here, the normal rules of behavior at Redwall did not apply. Down here, survival was the only thing that mattered.

The shrimp were the first to find the pike, descending upon it like a living cloud to pick at any loose tatters of flesh, scrambling over it from its severed head to its tail fins. Then the other fish, attracted by the seething mass of shrimp and seeing that their grand nemesis was safely dead, swam out to join in the feeding frenzy. The shrimp quickly scattered and dispersed into the safety of the reeds and bottom stones. But the pike could not flee, and from its bones the other fish ate their fill, and then ate a little more ...

The pike was a huge fish, and its flesh would not all be consumed in one day. In the days that followed there were many more meals taken from its substance, by the shrimp and by the other fish in turns, until the bones were picked clean and only its skull and skeleton remained resting on the bottom of the pond. Thus did the mighty pike, which had taken so much from its realm over the seasons, meet its final end, preyed upon by the very prey it had terrorized for so long. And with it gone, the shrimp began to multiply and increase their numbers, awaiting the day when the otters' nets would return once more ...


End file.
